


In the Wind

by Winterstar



Series: The Kent Rogers Cycle [2]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 14:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4023700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark never hears the call, but knows he needs to get to Steve - his life depends on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> So apparently I am now writing a series of these stories

Over the years, he’s learned to cut the noise out, the chaos around him. As a child, the activity around him, the noise, the beating of hearts, people breathing, the slightest shift of a foot, a finger, the sound of distant traffic, anything caused terror to take root in him deep and dark within him. His mother had helped, techniques he learned quieted the world around him. Each and every situation he’s in takes a few days before he’s able to keep the world from invading his peace.

So when the newsroom goes nuts over yet another alarming story, Clark stays planted in his chair in his own little cubicle, going through the data on his story. He can always hear the shuffle, the television as it blares in the background. If he concentrates enough, he can hear further, the actual story taking place. It isn’t far this time, he can reach to it. It’s within the United States on the East Coast. He can tell from his innate ability to detect trouble in this world, his home. He shuffles from the desk, from the cubicle toward the window. He doesn’t pay attention to the crowd around the television monitors mounted in the corners of the newsroom. Instead, he heads to the windows.

The long distant crash and explosion catch him off guard and he jerks. Lois must see him because she crosses the space between them. “Clark?”

“It’s the Avengers, isn’t it?”

She looks back to the television and he glances that way as well. On the screen the scene is chaos as it always is. The Avengers, the new Avengers, had been called out not one week after the last time. The Council was still investigating the last disaster, and now this – it doesn’t look good from what Clark sees on the screen. But this time it isn’t the danger to others but to the Avengers themselves.

Someone had come after the Vision during the Avengers investigation of the hot spot.

They had every kind of weapon and offensive maneuvers available. From what Clark sees on the screen, the Avengers had been surrounded. Most had gotten out, but their leader – according to the report – hadn’t.

“Looks like Cap’s a goner,” someone says.

Clark zeroes in on Steve then – not on the television, not from the news reports, but with his own senses, trying to find him through the noise and headache of the persistent pleads from humanity.

“Steve,” he murmurs under his breath and stretches, trying to hear, trying to find him.

“The building’s collapsed,” Lois says and squeezes his arm. She knows and when he meets her gaze, she nods to him – telling him to go – find him.

He’s in the wind in seconds, discarded street clothes, and flying high over Metropolis, over the fields and highways toward the East Coast. He punches through the sound barrier, his heart throbbing through his chest. It isn’t something he’s used to, not this feeling of helplessness, and hopelessness. The last time had been when he watched his father die. He won’t let that happen again – not this time, not to him, not to Steve.

The wind burns, the air thins and he doesn’t care. He strives forward, hitting farther and faster than he’s ever done before and soon he arrives. Setting onto the grounds with the conflagration around him, he scans the area and sees the broken remains of the Avengers. And then he spots him, Iron Man – he’s here but his armor looks dented and scorched. Before them the whole of a building is in shambles, burning, a raging fire.

Iron Man strides up to him, one leg dragging as he walks. “Can you help him? He’s alive, FRIDAY says he’s alive. I’m getting readings. He’s alive.”

“Where?” He doesn’t have to ask, as he surveys the wreckage, he immediately finds the crushed form of Steve under layers of the burning building.

“Northwest corner, northwest,” Sam screams from the side as he cradles his arm. His wings are gone.

Again, before there’s further discussion, he’s crashing through the air, through the structure, the flames licking at him, flaring and sparking as he smashes the splinter beams. He wants to call out, but it’s impossible. He doesn’t even know if Steve’s aware or awake. He only thinks – hang on, hang on. I’m almost there. Do not leave me.

He lands again inside the collapsed building, crouched over, and starts searching – Steve’s here – somewhere. But fire devours everything, a demon of light and heat and destruction. A burst of flashes spits out splinters of fire and tongues of flame and then it glints off of the sheen of the shield.

He races over to it and then sees Steve’s partially gloved hand. It’s the only part of him visible. Fractured boards on fire lay on top of Steve. Without thought, Clark bends over and rips the wood away only to find his love a horrible mass of burnt skin and crushed bones. There’s no way the super soldier serum can help; Clark’s mind is a shambles of fear, driving him to carefully scoop Steve into his arms, catch the shield with his hand, and then turn his gaze upward.

Before he lifts off, Steve mutters, “Clark.”

His beautiful face, angular and sculpted is a ruin. His breath wheezes.

“I’m here,” he says and then cradles Steve close to his chest. “You’re safe.” He says it more to convince himself than to assure Steve. Holding his love in one arm, the shield slung over his wrist of his other arm, Clark puts his arm with the shield up and launches forward, blasting through the inferno above him. The shattered building cascades around him like an avalanche of fire, shooting and erupting into layers of let loose flowing flames. The shield knocks them away as Clark flies upward, exploding through the debris and arcing across the sky headed directly to the hospital and not stopping to check on Steve’s teammates.

~oOo~  
He stumbles to the ground, still grasping Steve in his arms, calling for help at the same time in the parking lot of the hospital. There’s a minor commotion near the ambulance bay as paramedics and nurses converge on him. He clutches Steve to his chest even as he cries out for help.

One of the nurses, a young woman with her hair in a ponytail and thick framed glasses that remind him of his own, grabs his arm and says, “You have to let him go, sir. We can’t help him if you don’t let him go.”

Someone near to his right gasps as the sight of Steve’s shield and words - _Captain, America, Soldier_ are whispered.

“Sir, please we want to help him,” she says and her eyes implore him to understand.

Something shudders in him and he opens his arms to her, the shield clatters to the ground and someone picks it up. Others rush a gurney under his arms and he releases his burden. He hears words, status words on Steve’s condition. None of them sound right or good. Shock, burns, estimates over 40 to 50 percent of his body. Airway compromised, bones broken, contusions, concussion possibilities.

Steve’s gone in a flash and Clark is left to stand empty handed in the parking lot. He doesn’t even have the shield in hand. That thought causes him to rush into the hospital yelling for the shield, for Steve’s shield. Someone shoves it into his waiting hands and he clutches it to his chest. Almost immediately, someone escorts him to a private waiting area and asks,  
“Is there anything you need, sir?”

He finds himself sitting in a small metal chair. Looking up at the woman – it’s not the same woman – she’s older, softer in appearance. She reminds him of his mother. “I need to know.”

“You will, the doctors are in with him now. Can I get you anything?”

It occurs to him then in the quiet of the room, far away from the chaos he knows, _can hear_ , that surrounds Steve, that the Avengers have no idea where he went. “Can you, can you call the Avengers?”

She gets this peculiar look on her face as if he’s asked her to contact her god or a fantastical creature. She hesitates, stuttering and nodding. “I’ll see what I, I’ll see what I can do?”

“Please, they’ll be worried.”

“Okay,” she says and presses her lips together looking lost around the room as if she’s lost.

It goads at his frayed nerves and he shouts, “Stop, go, call the police, call someone to find the Avengers. He’s their leader. Go now.” He stands over her now, hulking over her. It’s not fair, not fair at all, but she quakes under his stare and scrambles away to do what he’s ordered.

As he waits nurses come and go, doctors race into the triage room. Eventually, the Avengers appear. The Black Widow – her name is Natasha as he recalls-, Sam as he knows the Falcon, the War Machine who he’s never met but is named Colonel Rhodes. He doesn’t see the one called Vision or Wanda, but Tony Stark walks into the waiting area, his hair messed, his eyes wild.

“Where is he?”

Clark stands up. “They’re assessing him now.”

Stark grabs for the shield but Clark yanks it away. Glaring at him, Stark says, “Give me that, you can’t have it.”

“I’m holding it for him.”

“No offense Supes, but you’re not part of the team. You’re not even an ad hoc member. Thanks for the save and all, but you can go hide in the hole you disappeared into these last few months.”

All of them circle around him, like vultures awaiting their prey to roll over and die. He doesn’t back down. “I’m staying.”

“Listen, you can go, seriously get out,” Stark says and he’s in Clark’s face. It surprises Clark the man has the gall to confront him – he’s not even in his armor anymore and it looks like his leg is bruised or hurt the way he’s favoring it.

“I said I was staying. I’m staying.”

Black Widow, Natasha, places a hand on Stark’s shoulder and Rhodes opens his face plate and says, “Tony, come on. Let him stay, what the hell do you care?”

“Why should he be here? Who the hell is he? He flies in and flies out. He should have been there in the first place to help out.”

“Please,” Clark says because there’s no point fighting now, not when Steve is failing. Not now. “Please.” He hands over the shield to them.

They consider it and then acquiesce while taking the shield. “Okay, stay, but stay out of the way, too.”

He eases away and settles back in the chair again. It takes a long time before the doctors come out to talk to them. He doesn’t join the Avengers when they all stand up to talk with the doctors. He’s already heard, he has his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands.

“He’s in critical condition,” the lead doctor says. He’s a tall man with lanky fingers and pale white skin as if he’s never seen the sun. “We’ve ventilating him. Administered fluids, and we’re working on his renal function, getting him dopamine infusions and-.”

“English, Doctor, can we try English,” Stark says and he grimaces as he shifts his balance.

“The burns are extensive. This causes fluid loss and cardiac as well as renal problems. His lungs are compromised and he has several broken bones.”

“The serum, will it help?” Clark asks, and all of the Avengers look at him.

The doctor opens his hands with those long spider like fingers. “I don’t know. I don’t have experience with it.”

“Where the hell are you Bruce,” Stark says under his breath.

“We’ll treat him as we would any other burn and trauma patient. It’s the safest route. Correct?”

“He won’t get infected,” Sam says. “He doesn’t get that, right?”

Stark is nodding and adding, “Pain meds don’t work on him.”

“I’m sorry, the care that we give him might be insufficient then,” the doctor says while he glances at the group of his colleagues clustered in the doorway. Several of them avert their eyes as if to do that they are absolved of any need to care.

“You’ll help him, you’ll do something for him.” Clark says and he wants to wring their necks but someone’s small hand is on his chest where the symbol of Hope is stitched.

“We know someone, we’ll call her in,” Natasha says while Stark steps up to his side. His gaze concentrates on Clark, analyzing, figuring. “Let’s call Coulson, we can bring in Simmons. She might know something.”

“Okay, okay, that’s good.” Sam relaxes a degree but Clark needs to see him, needs to hold him.

“Can I see him?” All of the Avengers startle as they whip around to stare at him. “Please.”

Stark tilts his head and narrows his eyes but then goes to bat for him. “Can he, can we?”

The doctor weighs their request and then says, “One at a time. We’re bringing him to the ICU. He’s in pain and aware. The broken bones are an issue with the trauma of the burns.”

“Understood.”

Stark points to Clark and then gestures for him to follow the doctor. All of the team watch him, deciding what his position here is, but he doesn’t care, he wants his hands on Steve again.

When he enters the triage room, the sight stops him. Steve is a mass of blood and scarred flesh. There are places where the skin is completely gone, the muscle and underlying tissue bared to the outside. A tube lives in his mouth to give him breath. Another tube drains fluid from his lungs. There are wires and other lines he’s not sure what they do.

It intimidates him. It is ludicrous and ridiculous for him to stand there paralyzed, frozen in fear seeing Steve so small and frail in the bed surrounded by so many different instruments.

“Come, he’s awake, he needs to know someone’s here.” A nurse appears at his side; she picks up his hand and slowly brings him to the bedside. His cape makes gentle swooshing noises as he moves and Steve opens his eyes – or one eye since the other is badly damaged and swollen shut. He cannot speak with the ventilation tube down his throat but he peers up at Clark, both surprise and gratitude in his expression.

“Steve,” he murmurs and reaches out. The nurse says nothing about infection – a normal burn patient could not be touched like this, but for Steve this is needed, this is important, crucial to his healing. Tenderly he touches Steve’s face, cupping his hand along the ridge of his jaw. “Steve.” His voice destroys the air with its anguish. 

A gurgled noise issues from Steve, but the nurse, who stands nearby, stops Steve. “No, sir. Don’t try and talk.” She backs away and Clark is grateful.

His eyes cannot focus for the wet of his tears, he grasps Steve’s hand in his and cradles his cheek. “Don’t leave me, don’t go.”

The pain etched through Steve’s eyes feels like a strike to Clark’s own soul. He cannot do this, he cannot allow Steve to be alone in this struggle any longer. “Please, Steve, I love you too damned much. I can’t do this any longer.”

He hears a rustling and thinks it may be the nurse. Yet, when he glances in that direction, he sees how wrong his assumption is.

Tony Stark stands there, listening.

A moment, paused and open, bleeding and beating passes between them. Stark rushes at him then, fully intent on assaulting him. Clark brushes him off easily enough. Stark tumbles to the floor.

With a sneer on his face, Stark growls, “How could you? How could you let this happen, if you love him? How could you? Get out, get out before I call the police, the military, the god damned President. Get out.”

He hesitates, because all he wants to do is stay with Steve, help Steve. But there’s a look of extreme pain on Steve’s face, twisted and ugly. He’s in distress, and cannot have people fighting over him. Clark has no other choice. He releases his hold on Steve and stares at Stark as he climbs to his feet.

“Get out.”

“I love him.”

“Then prove it and get the hell out,” Stark says and something in Clark breaks, fractures. He’s spent and old, and too damned tired. 

He crosses to the door of the triage bay, but before he leaves, Clark says, “Take care of him.”

He never hears Stark’s reply, because he’s in the wind again.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not worry all, I am still shipping Stony. I just needed a break or two.....If you want to follow me see my [tumblr](http://winterstar95.tumblr.com)


End file.
